Zorome
by solderini
Summary: Strange things have been happening to Zoro all day...


Disclaimer: One Piece does not belong to me, nor am I making any money off of this work of fanfiction.  
  
Warnings: Angst, and maybe horror.  
  
Note: This fic takes place on November 11.  
  
~*~ Zorome ~*~  
  
Zoro took a deep breath and opened the door to the storage room. It creaked open, revealing a long staircase. He clutched his katana tightly and took one step into the darkness, then another, carefully feeling out each step before putting any weight onto it.  
  
Though the staircase was old and wooden, it made no sound at all as he descended. Eventually, the light from the room upstairs filtered out, leaving him unable to see in the dim light. Zoro paused, wiping his sweating hands on his shirt before proceeding, eyes closed against the darkness.  
  
Eventually there were no more stairs. Zoro smirked. So much for that. He wiped his hands off again, then opened his eyes. Someone had lit an oil lamp down here, illuminating the small storage room. He swept his eyes around the room, looking for what he needed. Spare bokken, shelves, padding, and other miscellaneous items cast shadows over the floor, and in one of those shadows, a person stood.  
  
Zoro gulped and approached the person. Was this what he was... but before he could ask, one of the floorboards howled under his weight. The person turned around. It was Kuina.  
  
"Kuina!" Zoro cried. "You're--"  
  
"Still weak," said Kuina, her head lolling at an impossible angle. "Aren't you, Zoro?"  
  
Zoro bolted upright, panting heavily and covered in a sheen of cold sweat. He buried his face in his hands, trying to calm his racing heart.  
  
'Another damn dream,' he thought. 'God, why today of all days...'  
  
One deep breath, then another. Calm. He was calm. Soon enough, it was true, and he turned his attention to figuring out where he was. A quick look revealed he was leaning against the cabin wall on the upper deck of the Going Merry, where he'd fallen asleep last night. The false dawn was slowly turning the sky a light purplish color. Zoro bent over and rubbed his eyes. Too damn early.  
  
Suddenly, he got the sense that he was being watched. Scratch that, he knew it; years of swordfighting and making enemies through said act had honed his senses to a fine point. He darted his eyes around, trying to find the source of the sensation, but found only Nami, who was sitting in her usual spot and watching the sunrise, a mug of tea in her hand.  
  
"Another nightmare?" Nami asked.  
  
"None of your business," Zoro growled.  
  
"I know." Nami shrugged. "I don't really care what it was. But you startled me when you screamed like that."  
  
"I don't scream."  
  
"You did. Now, go back to sleep and let me watch this in peace."  
  
Zoro glared at her. Damn that woman. He wanted a beer. He tried to get up, but found his legs twisted in a green woolen blanket he was sure hadn't been there when he'd fallen asleep.  
  
"Hey," he said, "did you do this?" He gestured to the blanket as Nami glanced his way.  
  
"Nope," Nami said. "It was like that when I came out here."  
  
"Ah." Zoro untangled himself from the blanket and stood up, leaving it where it was. He stretched, then headed toward the kitchen. Brew in hand, he came back out and sat down on top of the blanket. "So," he asked, taking a swig, "why are you out here, anyway?"  
  
"You're not the only one who has nightmares," Nami said. "And I'd rather not talk about it, so if you could please be quiet?"  
  
That was just fine with Zoro. He finished his beer, then took a nap, thankfully dreamless this time. Life proceeded as normal. Well, normal for the Going Merry, meaning that five fights, three explosions and one near-drowning occurred before lunch, which was when it started to get weird again.  
  
The meal was nothing special--not that Zoro really had a taste for fine foods, but it looked pretty plain. How it looked wasn't important, however. All that mattered was how much of it there was. And there was an awful lot of it. Zoro downed swig after swig of beer as he devoured his lamb chops and potatoes au gratin, and it wasn't until his plate was nearly empty that he realized he'd never had to refill his mug. He peered into it curiously. Almost full. Sanji was the closest person to it, sitting on his right when he wasn't personally serving Nami. The only other person who could even reach the thing was Nami, sitting on his left, and Zoro knew better than to expect any favors from her.  
  
"Hey Sanji," he said. Sanji glared at him. He'd been just about to pour Nami some wine. Zoro narrowed his eyes in disgust. Didn't that guy have anything better to do than fawn over his precious Nami-san? "Have you been refilling my mug?"  
  
"What?" Sanji asked.  
  
"My mug. Is it you that's been refilling it?"  
  
"No. I've got better things to do."  
  
"Ah." Zoro pondered the question for a minute longer. Then he decided, hey, beer was beer, and if someone wanted to save him the bother of refilling his own mug, who was he to stop them?  
  
But there was that feeling again, closer than before. Zoro didn't think it was hostile, but he kept his swords close to him, just in case.  
  
Life went on as usual. That meant another two fights and a runaway sentient albatross, and then came mid-afternoon, which was when things got weird again.  
  
Even the sharpest, most cursed blade becomes dull after a long period of usage, and Zoro had owned enough swords to know that his current ones were reaching that state. That thought in mind, he rummaged through his stuff and found his whetstone and polish, two of the few items he cared to claim as his own aside from the swords themselves. He brought them outside and sat down on the deck, then unhooked his scabbards from his haramaki.  
  
"Hey, Zoro, what're you doing?" Usopp called from the crow's nest, where he was keeping watch.  
  
"Just polishing my swords," Zoro replied.  
  
"Ah. Well, if you need any help, I'll have you know that I was a master sword polisher back in Syrup Town... eep!" Despite the distance between them, Usopp cowered when Zoro stood up, scowling at him. That presence was there again, that damn feeling of being watched. And he did not need Usopp being his usual stupid self when he was in this bad of a mood. He crossed the deck to the rigging and started climbing up it, earning more exhortations from Usopp.  
  
"N-No, wait, please, I wasn't trying to insult you or anything, I was just-- it was a magic spell, that's it! To ensure your, um, victory in battle? Your prowess in sword-polishing? The greenness of your hair? It did anything you want, just please don't hurt me!" When Zoro got up to the crow's nest, Usopp was curled up on the bottom, arms over his head. Zoro sighed. On second thought, he didn't feel like beating Usopp up after all. Instead, he smacked him lightly on one of his protective arms and retraced his path back to his swords.  
  
He plopped himself down next to his weapons and picked up Wadou Ichimonji. After a short moment of contemplation, he balanced it lightly on his forefinger, then flipped it into his hand and drew it partially out of its scabbard. He looked carefully at the blade. It gave off a newly-polished gleam. When he ran his thumb across it, it produced a thin, barely-visible cut. He sucked on his thumb and thought. Someone had gotten to his swords before he had. He checked his other two swords in the same manner, then glared up at the crow's nest.  
  
"Hey, Usopp!" he yelled.  
  
"Yeah, Zoro?"  
  
"Did you polish my swords?"  
  
"Wh-Wh-What!" Usopp shouted. "No way! I kn-know better than to touch a great master's tools without his permission! And since you are clearly--"  
  
"Yeah, yeah, I get it," Zoro interrupted. "Just shut up, OK? I'm going to sleep."  
  
He rebuckled his swords and crossed the deck to the prow, where he leaned back against the railing and stared at the sky. That damn presence was back again, stronger than ever. Zoro sighed. Maybe it was just him. He closed his eyes and drifted off.  
  
When he woke up, it was night. He stretched and yawned, then gazed lazily around the area. There was a shadow on the deck that shouldn't have been there. It took Zoro a minute to place it; someone was sitting on the railing next to him. He looked up.  
  
The shadow belonged to Kuina, who was looking out over the ocean and banging her feet lightly against the wood. He stood and leaned against the railing, grinning at her. "So," he said, "trying to spook me again tonight? I know this is a dream, you know. You can't get me."  
  
Kuina turned to face him and smiled. She opened her mouth to speak.  
  
"Hey, Zoro." The voice wasn't Kuina's. Zoro looked at its source and found Luffy grinning at him.  
  
"Yeah, Luffy?" He didn't know why Luffy was in his dream--no, he wasn't dreaming, he suddenly realized, he was awake. So why was he still standing?  
  
"Wanted to tell you before I forgot," Luffy said. "Happy birthday, Zoro."  
  
Zoro went cold. "How did you know it was my birthday?"  
  
Luffy smiled even wider and pointed to the railing. "The girl next to you told me."  
  
Zoro whipped his head around, eyes wide. The space where Kuina had been was empty. After a long moment he looked back at his captain, forcing himself to remove his hand from Wadou Ichimonji's hilt and breathe. As he did so, he heard a whisper from behind him, so faint he could've sworn it was just the wind on the ocean:  
  
"Aren't you, Zoro?"  
  
~*~ The End ~*~  
  
Author's notes: Happy Late Birthday, Zoro. I actually wrote it on the 11th of November, but needed some time to polish it. Hyacynth the Ever-Living helped with this, so if you liked it, you should thank her as well.  
  
Zorome is Japanese for a palindrome (such as 11/11, which is why I think Zoro was given that date as a birthday in the first place), hence the title.  
  
I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! 


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